All My Days
by ohwhatprovidence
Summary: This is really only the beginning of the rest of their lives, and they can't wait to see where they'll go from here. Sequel to 'For Good'


**A/N: First of all, this will make no sense if you haven't read the prequel, so look over 'For Good' really quick if you haven't already.**

**Anyway, here's the deal. I had plans to just write one really, really long epilogue, and I was working really hard on it and I couldn't figure out why I was having so much trouble (it's taken me, like, four months to write 12,000 words), and then I realized that it was really just too overwhelming to do it all once. My brain couldn't even process it. Hah. So, this will be multi-chaptered. I really didn't want to do it in several parts, because it's really more like a large series of one-shots without many long storyline arches, and also because I didn't want to get committed to another long story, but I think it's the only way I'll actually write this thing. **

**I'm aiming for ten chapters, but it could be more or less, and I'm afraid this probably won't be updated every week. I have another large project that I'm working on right now (it's Rachel/Quinn, and also kind of Puck/Quinn and also kind of Finn/Rachel, so I guess there's really nothing for you Puckleberry shippers in there, but maybe you'll like it anyway!) and it's top priority. I obviously have plans to **_**finish**_** this, just not as quickly as I had originally planned.**

**ALSO: I've been having some trouble formatting on this site lately, so let me know if things look wonky. I'll be keeping an eye out for it, but I may miss something.**

Maria is two days old, and they're taking her home today. Puck thinks they should just stay at the hospital forever, because those hospitality nurses are sort of like maids and personal assistants and waitresses all in one, except he doesn't have to tip them. He wants to see how much it would cost to take one home with them, but he figures it's probably more than his pool cleaning business brings in, especially since he stopped sexing up the cougars and lost roughly ninety-nine percent of his customers.

Rachel is equal parts thrilled and horrified to be discharged. On the one hand, hospitals are a hotbed of germs and the mattresses are really uncomfortable and there are all these noises that she's not used to that are keeping her awake at night, so it will be nice to be back at home. On the other hand, she hasn't exactly mastered motherhood yet, and she feels ill-equipped to be cut loose and allowed to parent this little baby without the guidance of nurses who seem to know everything. She's called someone into her room at least once every hour for the past two days, just to be reassured that Maria is normal and she's not doing anything wrong (and maybe there was one time when she called someone in to ask whether or not excessive crying in infancy could damage the baby's vocal cords, and yes, maybe she called them back an hour later to ask if they were _sure_ that it wouldn't, because it seemed completely logical to her). She's read all the books and attended all the classes and taken very careful notes, which she plans to have laminated, but there are all sorts of things that she doesn't quite understand yet.

Case in point, the car seat. Rachel and the baby have been discharged for half an hour, and they're free to go as soon as the nurse verifies that the baby is safely strapped into the car seat and car seat is safely strapped into the car. Rachel sees this as their first chance to prove that they can be capable parents, and they are failing miserably.

"I think it goes this way," Puck offers, cautiously pulling the baby's arm through one of the straps.

"That can't be right – what about _that_ strap?" Rachel replies with a furrowed brow. "Where are the instructions?"

"I don't think it came with any."

"They just expect us to know this stuff?"

"I guess," Puck shrugs. "We could ask somebody."

"No, we can get this," she says with renewed vigor. They _have_ to get this.

They try for another ten minutes before the baby starts fussing and they realize that she needs a diaper change. Rachel lifts Maria from the carrier and places her on the bed, then pulls a diaper and the container of wipes out of the diaper bag that she had _just_ packed. While she busies herself with the baby, Puck goes to find a nurse because seriously, they'll be here for a week if they don't get some help with this stupid car seat. He comes back with an orderly a few minutes later, and she gets the baby buckled in the seat within ten seconds. Rachel thanks the woman sheepishly, and then turns to Puck and whispers, "I _would_ have figured it out eventually."

"Oh, don't feel bad. Most people have trouble with these things at first," the older woman says. "Now, if you're all ready, I can escort you downstairs and make sure the base is installed correctly, and then you'll be free to go."

Outside, Rachel's parents are waiting by the front doors. Getting the car seat in the car is a much less complicated process, and they're soon ready to leave. Rachel and Maria ride in the Berry's car and Puck follows behind in the truck. He's pretty sure he's going to have to get rid of it and find something more family friendly, and he'll probably cry when he has to turn in the keys, but he's got a new baby now – a _real_ baby, which takes precedence over a truck. He kind of surprises himself by coming to that conclusion on his own – if this is what having a kid does to you after _two days_, he's not sure he wants to imagine how much of a pussy he's going to be in a few years.

Once home, they're not really sure what is supposed to happen next. The baby is quiet, for the most part, and there's not much that needs to be done. Still, it feels odd to just go about their normal activities, so they spend a lot of time staring at her, trying to anticipate her next need. Rachel eventually tries to nap because she's fairly certain that Maria is legitimately nocturnal, but she can't lay in bed for more than a few minutes without getting up to make sure everything is okay. She gives up completely when guests start arriving to meet the baby. Puck says he can handle it, but it seems cruel to leave him alone with both of their well-meaning but quite possibly insane extended families.

Around dinnertime, Pete and Seth send the guests away and throw one of the many casseroles they've received into the oven. When supper is ready and the table is set, they go into the living room to let Puck and Rachel know that it's time to eat. Seth is the first in the room, and he lets out a soft laugh as soon as he passes through the doorway. Pete is only a few seconds behind, and when his eyes follow Seth's, he sees Puck sitting up on the sofa and Rachel lying across it, with her head in his lap. Maria is lying on her chest and Rachel's arms are draped over her protectively. All three are fast asleep.

"Should we wake them?"

"Later," Seth says. "Sleep when the baby sleeps, remember?"

A small smile spreads across Pete's face as they leave the room, shutting off the light behind them.

They wake up half an hour later, and once they reheat dinner for themselves and then feed, burp, and change the baby, they're both ready to collapse again. It's early, even for Rachel, but the adrenaline that has been carrying them through the past few days has disappeared and they feel no shame in calling it a night at eight-thirty.

Rachel's fathers and Mrs. Puckerman had talked it over and agreed that Puck should stay at the Berry household for a while, because they all remember the chaos of those early days and none of them can imagine having to do it by themselves. However, Rachel is still their little girl and they're not about to let a _boy_ stay in her bed overnight, so Puck has been set up in the spare room right next to their bedroom. Conveniently, this means that he has to pass by their room to enter Rachel's, and they have made it crystal clear that if they ever find him in her room in the middle of the night (and they _will be checking_), he'll never be allowed within a mile radius of their home again. Rachel made several proclamations of life-long abstinence during labor, but it's the principle of the matter, really.

It turns out to be a non-issue, of course, because the first night is rough. Rachel and Puck see every hour on the clock with the baby, and by the time morning comes around, they both feel a bit like zombies.

"Good morning!" Seth chirps, pushing Rachel's disheveled hair out of her face and kissing her forehead when she sleepily shuffles into the kitchen. She grunts in response, before sitting down and laying her head on the table. Her whole body aches like she's been hit by a truck, she can't even fathom how exhausted she is, and she almost wants to cry when she thinks about how long it will be before they get anything that resembles a full night's sleep again.

Pete places her breakfast in the middle of the table, because her head is still occupying the place where the plate generally goes. "Hard night, huh?"

"_Horrible_ night," she retorts. "Sorry if she woke you. We tried to keep her quiet."

"Earplugs, honey," Seth says, patting Rachel's shoulder, and she briefly wonders why she didn't think of that, and then she remembers that she can't wear earplugs because Maria is _her_ baby and she _has_ to get her every time she is upset, even if she's already been fed and changed and cuddled and is just crying to make things difficult (not that she has considered that her sweet, little baby would do something like that. Well, she hasn't considered it _much_, anyway).

Puck enters the room with Maria in tow and takes a seat next to Rachel. It's been _maybe_ five minutes since she's last seen the baby, but she still forces her head off the table to get a look the little girl – Maria seems to change every time Rachel blinks. She takes her from Puck and feels the crankiness melt away, because the baby is wide awake and looking around with those big eyes of hers that she hopes will turn out to be the same color as Noah's, and it's just the sweetest thing she's ever seen.

She coos her name softly, and the baby's eyes grow wider than they were before, if that's even possible. Maria scans the area frantically, as if she realizes that she's just heard her mother's voice and _knows_ that she must be around here somewhere. Rachel has read that babies can't really see much when they're brand new, but she's pretty sure all those experts would change their mind if they could see the intensity with which Maria is currently staring at Rachel's face.

Their eyes lock, and despite being so tired that she can barely lift her eye lids, Rachel's fairly sure she's never felt so alive.

–––––

Maria is three months old, and today begins Rachel and Puck's junior year. Rachel is excited to get back into the swing of things and start feeling like herself again. She's cutting back on her extracurricular activities this year to ensure that she has ample time for her schoolwork and the baby, but obviously she has chosen to remain Glee club captain – she knows that it might be a bit of a challenge, but no one else is really cut out for the job. They were absolutely destroyed at Regionals last year, and Rachel has spent her limited free time working on multiple musical arrangements that feature her heavily on lead vocals, to ensure that they won't be defeated again.

Puck isn't exactly excited (because it's school, and school pretty much blows ninety-nine percent of the time), but he's more anxious for this year than he's ever been before, and it's all Rachel's fault. Over the summer, she learned that he didn't have an official academic plan and immediately rectified that situation by creating a detailed diagram, titled '_Noah Puckerman's Roadmap to Success_', complete with illustrations and a lot of cheesy, driving-related metaphors. He made fun of her for it, mercilessly, but he actually does plan to follow it. Rachel assures him that if he works hard enough, he could get a decent scholarship to a school in New York, and that's really all he needs right now. He knows that if he can't go to New York then Rachel probably won't go either, and the day Rachel announces that she's staying in Lima is the day that Pete Berry murders him and uses his body to fertilize the tomato plants in their backyard. So, for the first time in his entire school career, he's starting the year with plans to actually pass the classes he's taking.

Despite their combined eagerness, there is one thing that's making this morning rather difficult. It's the first time they've really left Maria for a whole day, and to say that Rachel is freaking out would be putting it mildly. Her fathers, staying true to their promise of doing what they can to keep her in school, are funding Maria's daycare. Rachel has toured the facility five times and knows that it's a great place and it's only a few minutes from the school – she knows everything will be fine. This doesn't stop her from staying up all night worrying about it.

When Puck wakes up around six-thirty in the morning and peeks into her room to make sure she didn't die in her sleep or something (it's the only thing that makes sense of the fact that she's not already running around the house like a crazy person), he finds her staring intently at her laptop with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open slightly. He sits down next to her on the bed and peers over her shoulder – he's highly disappointed to find that she's not looking at porn.

"Do you know about nipple confusion?" she asks, rather frantically.

"Good morning to you, too, Berry," he says with a yawn. It briefly occurs to him that Rachel just said something about a nipple and he didn't even blink – parenthood has totally ruined him.

"She's not going to understand how to take a bottle, Noah! What if she refuses it and starves?"

"She'll figure it out, Rach."

"What if she decides she likes the bottle more than nursing? What if I have to stop breastfeeding before the optimal weaning age?"

He moves away from her, knowing she's going to smack him as soon as the words in his mind leave his mouth, then says with a smirk, "Then your boobs won't be off limits anymore, and I'll be a happy man."

She attempts to hit him without taking her eyes away from the screen and ends up swatting at air instead. "This is serious, Noah. Breastfed babies are at lower risk for ear infections, pneumonia, kidney infections, bronchitis, and _septicemia_!" She doesn't really know what that last one is, but it sounds bad. "Plus, they have higher IQs than their peers, often by upwards of ten points!"

"Did you just read that directly off a website?"

Rachel blushes and quickly shuts her laptop. "That's irrelevant. The fact is, someone else is going to be taking care of our baby until May. What if she forgets about us?"

Puck sighs and scoots closer to Rachel. "Berry?"

"What if she thinks we've left her forever?"

"Rach, come on."

"What if this triggers lifelong abandonment issues and she never forgives us?"

"Rachel!"

Rachel closes her mouth and looks up at him. "What?"

"Can I say something to you without you getting all huffy and annoyed?"

"Well, that will depend on what you're going to say, won't it?"

Puck rolls his eyes and just goes for it, because chances are they'll fight about _something_ today – might as well just get it over with. "You're acting completely insane, and you need to chill the fuck out, alright? Why are you so freaked out?"

Rachel sighs heavily. "It's just…I'm not naïve. I know that we're raising Maria under less than ideal circumstances, and we're always going to have to work harder than older parents to give her what she deserves. I don't want to make any mistakes. We _can't_ make any mistakes." Her shoulders slump a bit and he can see that she's blinking back tears. "I just want what's best for her."

Puck gets it. Maria makes him feel completely helpless most of the time. They are working so hard to keep the baby happy and healthy, and despite doing a pretty great job of it so far, it's hard not to think about everything that can go wrong, and he's a pretty laidback guy. He imagines that it must be kind of maddening for someone as nutty as Rachel Berry.

"Hey," he says, taking her face in his hands. "I probably don't say this enough, but you're a damn good mom."

Her frown softens. "You think so?"

"Hell yeah. You're the best baby-mama I could have asked for. And probably one of the hottest, too."

He pulls her into a kiss and would love show her just how much of a MILF she is, heavy emphasis on the F, but her dads are downstairs, and the baby has chosen this exact moment to wake up and start screaming at the top of her lungs. Rachel smiles against his lips before pulling back and bounding out of the room. Puck follows behind her quickly – it doesn't take two people to get Maria, but she always reserves her biggest smile for whoever rescues her from her crib in the morning, and Rachel has gotten to her before him the past three days.

They cross the threshold of the nursery at the same time and Rachel manages to squeeze past him, but not for long – Puck uses her dwarf size to his advantage and lifts her at the waist, spinning her around and then depositing her behind him. The room really isn't very big, so it doesn't give him that much of a lead, distance-wise, but it disorients her long enough that Puck totally wins. The baby flashes a huge grin as Puck lifts her from the crib and from behind him, Rachel laughs.

"See? Cheating gets you nowhere. I still got the first smile."

"Whatever, Berry. She was looking right at me."

"No, she was looking _past_ you, at the real winner. Weren't you, Little M?" Rachel coos, smoothing Maria's adorably mussed hair. "Yes, you were, because you recognize unsportsmanlike behavior when you see it, don't you? Now daddy gets to change your diaper! That's called a consequence," she says slowly, like Maria understands any of this. She looks to Puck and smiles sweetly. "Congratulations."

Puck grumbles as he carries Maria to the changing table, because Rachel _always_ finds a way to make him change the baby's diapers, but it's short-lived because that kid is just so damn cute, it's not even normal. She stares up at him the whole time, gurgling and cooing and smiling, as if she's eternally grateful that he would be so kind as to get her a fresh diaper, and nothing in the entire world has ever made him prouder.

They go about their routine as normally as possible, with Puck taking a quick shower and getting dressed while Rachel feeds the baby, and then trading off so that Puck is burping Maria and getting her dressed while Rachel is showering and getting herself ready for the day. It took them several weeks to get to the point where they both felt comfortable performing their duties alone (though it was mostly Puck, who somehow managed to put the baby's outfit on backwards and inside-out at least twice a week), but now their mornings are like a well-oiled machine. Today is a bit different, but thanks to Rachel's compulsive need to schedule their entire lives, they still make it out the door with plenty of time to spare.

Dropping the baby off at daycare goes smoothly, at first. Of course, Rachel recites a novel's worth of information, but the women in Maria's room do an excellent job of pretending that it's all as important as Rachel thinks it is. Rachel seems at ease, and Maria doesn't seem to really know what's going on, so it's all good.

It's all good until it's time to leave and they actually have to hand their baby over to a complete stranger, and then it's really, really _not_ all good. Maria is screaming, Rachel is crying, and Puck is really, really stressed out – he can't deal with both of his girls being completely fucking hysterical at the same time.

The daycare worker tells them that it's best to just say a brief good-bye and leave, because prolonging their departure just makes it harder, but Rachel is way too irrational to understand this now – all she can think about is her child in someone else's arms, sobbing. Sobbing for _her_. It's the worst pain she's ever felt. Noah has to physically drag her from the room, and it's all she can do keep from bolting back into the building when he finally lets go of her arm.

"She'll be fine," Puck says, over and over again, as they leave the parking lot and drive the five minutes to McKinley. He's saying it for himself just as much as he's saying it for Rachel. "She'll be fine."

The day is long and painful for them both. Rachel nearly cries every time someone asks about Maria and completely loses it when she spends her lunch hour pumping in the nurse's office, and Puck has trouble focusing on anything but the small picture of three of them that Rachel had previously affixed to the inside of his binder. By the time their last class dismisses, they nearly run over a large portion of the student body as they rush through the hallway towards the car. They had planned to stay for the first Glee rehearsal of the year, but there's no way they can possibly survive another hour.

When they get to the daycare, they discover that Maria is fine. Looking past their high strung, first-time parents nerves, they knew that she would be, but it still does them a world of good to walk into the room and see her happily batting at brightly colored toy hanging from a play mat. Her caretakers inform them that she calmed down quickly after they left and hardly fussed for the rest of the day, and she took her feedings well and napped right on schedule.

Noah gives the baby (who is now in Rachel's arms and probably won't be released from her death-grip any time soon) a high five for being so awesome and smirks at Rachel as they gather Maria's things and head toward the car.

"I knew everything would be okay. You worry too much."

"Noah, you broke at least seven traffic laws in the _two-mile_ drive here."

"Because I feared for my _life_. You had crazy, mama bear eyes."

Rachel would deny this accusation, except that it's probably true. "Regardless," she says, sliding into the passenger seat after getting Maria settled in the back. "I believe we have _both_ been proven wrong, pleasantly so, and now we can focus on our studies without worrying about Maria's wellbeing."

"Speaking of, did you want to head back to school? Glee's probably just started."

Rachel almost says yes, because she's the captain and she knows that it's important that she's there, but then she looks toward the backseat and catches Maria's face in the mirror. The baby is blowing raspberries and babbling cheerfully, and Rachel wants nothing more than to hold her and never let go. Her daughter is growing and changing every day, and the thought of missing another second of it is physically painful. She knows that part of parenthood is learning to let go, and she knows that there are situations, like school, where they're apart because it's necessary. But Glee will be there tomorrow, and she's certain it will remain exactly the way she left it – the same can't be said for Maria.

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "Let's just go home."

–––––

Maria is eight months old, and neither Puck nor Rachel can quite believe how quickly they've taken to parenthood. Their entire life revolves around this tiny person – everything she does is new and exciting, even if it's not. Sometimes they just watch her sleep, completely rapt by the steady rise and fall of her chest and the way her lips form a perfect pout. When they're near her, all they want to do is hold her and play with her, and when they're away, all they can think about is when they'll be with her again. They freely discuss the consistency of baby poop and make jokes about baby farts, and the other day, Rachel purposely caught spit up in her hand (it was either that or change her outfit _again_) and didn't even flinch. They're totally gross and totally boring and they can't be bothered to care, because their kid is all that really matters.

Maria is an easy baby to love. They would adore her even if she was a complete terror, but the fact is, she's a _really_ good baby, and eight months is a particularly charming age for her. She's developing a real personality, and they're learning all of her new quirks and specificities. Only Puck can send her into a full-body belly laugh with a single look, but only Rachel can get her to stop crying when she's really upset. She can't fall asleep unless her silky blanket is bunched up around her face, and she strokes her own hair when she eats. Her favorite game is peak-a-boo (they spend inordinate amounts of time popping out of random hiding places, trying to elicit a squeal) and her current goals in life include breaking every piece of jewelry she comes in contact with (Puck thinks she has great ninja potential, because she can locate and snap the chain of a necklace in two seconds flat) and mastering the art of walking. She's been trying for weeks now (which makes them really proud, because it's definitely on the early side of normal, but also makes them nervous because they thought they'd have more time before they had to start chasing after a toddler), but she's pretty wobbly and falls down before she can actually manage to take a step. This doesn't stop her from attempting the seemingly impossible feat every time she's put on the floor, though – she's Rachel's child, after all.

Of course, just because she's the cutest and smartest kid in the world doesn't mean that things are always easy or pleasant. In fact, sometimes it's really, really hard, and they need a lot of assistance to make it work. They realize how absurdly lucky they are to have the support of both sets of parents (though Puck's mother, being a single parent and still having Elizabeth to look after, is unable to help as much as Rachel's fathers), but sometimes, even _that_ is frustrating. They want to want to be self-sufficient and raise their child without the opinions of other people getting in the way, but they know it's wrong to ignore Rachel's dads' advice when they rely on them for a lot.

There are nights when they get absolutely no sleep and days where she's so clingy that they can't do anything but entertain her once they get home from school, and one particularly horrible week when Maria comes down with an awful head cold and cries practically non-stop for a week straight. Rachel is so busy dealing with Maria that she completely overlooks an essay in English class and doesn't start writing it until eleven o'clock, the night before it's due. This mistake earns her the first C in her entire school career, and as much as she would like to mourn the loss of her pristine GPA, she spends the rest of the afternoon at the Immediate Care office with a miserable baby and school is suddenly the least of her worries.

One afternoon, about a week before the little girl hits nine months, Glee has an after-school meeting to prepare for Regionals (the team had once again taken Sectionals), and they've brought Maria along because Rachel still hates to have her in daycare if it's not absolutely necessary. She's fairly acclimated to Glee rehearsals and is usually quite content to sit in her stroller and watch the performances, but today, she hasn't stopped fussing since they got there. After twenty minutes of mild protest, she's getting pretty aggravated and starts screaming and angrily kicking her legs.

Rachel apologizes to the group when they have to stop singing so that she and Puck can tend to her. She tries to placate the baby with cheerios, which Maria pushes off the stroller tray, spilling them all over the floor, and Puck waves around one of her favorite toys – she hurls it across the room with surprising strength. There's really no appeasing her when she gets like this, so Rachel dutifully pulls her out of the stroller and balances her on her hip.

"Alright, let's keeping going," she says, falling back in formation with the rest of them.

"Rachel," Mr. Schuester eyes her with concern. "are you sure that you…"

"Of _course_ I can," she says, her tone daring anyone to question her. "From the top, everyone."

The music begins again, and the honorary Glee member is happy for approximately five seconds before she starts squirming and arching her back. Rachel ignores it until Maria gets a handful of her hair and yanks. Hard. She winces as she reaches her hand to touch the part of her scalp that is now throbbing. She looks helplessly to Puck and is about to ask him to take her, but he's already lifting Maria from her arms and untangling her pudgy fingers from Rachel's hair.

"Little M, I think you're going to drive Rachel Berry to drink," he says, still pulling strands of dark hair from her grasp.

He's not even going to try to sing while holding Maria, because the kid is basically a tiny Rachel and if she doesn't want to do something, she's not going to do it. He goes over to the side of the room and entertains her the best he can, tickling her and spinning her and tossing her in the air when Rachel isn't looking, but she's just not interested at all and is doing everything in her power to get on the floor. He doesn't really see the point in reasoning with an eight-month-old, so he just lets her down – it's not going to hurt anything.

At least, not according to _him_. Rachel, however, is incensed. She stops singing abruptly and marches across the room with her hands on her hips. "Noah, we have no idea the last time these floors were thoroughly cleaned," she says. "Pick her up."

"She's happy. Just let her be."

"Would you just _let her be_ if she was happy playing on the edge of a cliff?"

"Because this is exactly the same thing," Puck says with a roll of his eyes.

"Well," Rachel huffs. "Both are potentially detrimental to her health."

"You're delusional."

"You don't think things through."

"You're a control freak."

"You never listen to…"

"Hey!" Finn says suddenly. "Why didn't you tell us that Maria can walk?"

"She can't," they answer in unison, before turning around to face the little girl and seeing that she is, in fact, walking – kind of. She's holding both of her hands out in front of her and slowly stepping one foot in front of the other, and she looks pretty unsteady on her feet, but she's moving forward and doing so without holding on to anything, and that is certainly more than she was able to do yesterday.

Rachel clutches Puck's arm tightly and they watch in stunned silence as Maria gradually makes her way across the room. She eventually loses her balance, falling backwards into a sitting position and briefly looking like she might cry, but then she scrunches her eyebrows in concentration and is at it again. She starts gaining speed, and it looks like maybe she's not exactly sure how to stop herself, so Puck crouches down to catch her in case she goes face-first onto the linoleum. She barrels right into his arms, and when he looks down at her in complete and utter shock, she smiles triumphantly and claps her hands.

The group erupts with applause and cheers, and soon there's some sort of unspoken contest to see who can get the baby to walk to them first. It looks like Finn's going to be the winner, but then Maria changes course and throws herself at Rachel's legs. Rachel scoops her up and plants kisses all over her face as she separates herself from the rest of the group, just far enough away that she can whisper without being heard – it's not that she's not thrilled to have shared this with her friends, but she needs a minute that just belongs to the two of them.

"You're amazing," she says, ruffling the baby's dark curls. Maria is whining and wiggling in Rachel's grasp because apparently she didn't really _want_ to be picked up and would much rather be practicing her new skill. Rachel smiles, cautiously placing Maria on her feet, and a small laugh bubbles up as she watches her daughter walk back to the group like she's been doing it her whole life.

Things are far from perfect, and even in a moment as lovely as this, the day-to-day stress of balancing schoolwork and parenting is not far from her mind. But then Maria lets out a happy shriek as Puck chases her across the room, and she knows that it's worth it. The exhaustion, the anxiety, the newly formed bald spot on the back of her head – Maria is worth it.

–––––

Maria is quite nearly one, and they're having a party in Rachel's backyard. She knows that the baby won't even remember the festivities an hour after they're over, but it's more for her and Puck. They've kept this small person safe and happy for an entire year, and that should be commemorated somehow. She tells everyone that gifts aren't necessary – Maria has more clothes than she'll ever wear (mostly thanks to Kurt, who can't resist a sale at Baby Gap) and she honestly doesn't need another toy or book. Still, no one shows up empty-handed, and by the time the entire Glee club (plus Mrs. Puckerman and Elizabeth) has arrived, the presents are stacked taller than the birthday girl.

They play silly games (Brittany wins all of them) and eat cupcakes and open as many presents as they can before Maria makes it abundantly clear that she is _done_. Rachel takes her around and she gives kisses to those who will accept them (she doesn't blame those who opt for a hug instead – the kissing is newly procured skill, and it could use some polishing. Maria mostly just opens her mouth and bangs her head against the lucky person's face), then they head upstairs to put her down for the night.

When Rachel goes back outside half an hour later (Maria, despite being completely exhausted, was quite unwilling to go to sleep), none of the Glee kids have left, and she's not sure why she expected that they would. Their junior year was a happy one for the club, and everyone is much closer than they were when the club began. Not to toot her own horn, but Rachel knows that has Maria played a big part in that – every single one of them loves that little girl to death, and having her around has been a great bonding experience for the group.

They hang out in the backyard, finishing off the cupcakes, opening the rest of Maria's presents (Finn "tests" the ones that flash and make noise…for two hours), and happily chatting, until it nears curfew for most of the group. They say their goodbyes, and then slowly disperse from the Berry residence, until it's just Rachel and Puck left in the yard, cleaning up the remnants of balloons and streamers.

They gently take down the banner that reads "Happy 1st Birthday!", because Rachel feels like it's a keepsake now or something – Puck has a feeling she'll somehow incorporate the large strip of paper into one of her _many _scrapbooks. She drapes it across the stack of presents by the patio door, while Puck throws the last of the empty soda cans and cupcake wrappers into a garbage bag and tosses it into the dumpster at the side of the house. It's the best they can do in the middle of the night, so they gather the gifts in their arms and quietly enter the house. After dropping the boxes in the living room to sort through in the morning, they quickly say goodnight and make their way to their respective rooms. It's been a long day, and Maria will still probably wake up before sunrise.

Hours later, Rachel is resting against the doorframe of the nursery, listening to Maria's steady breathing. She did this a lot when the baby was brand new and they were worried about every little thing that could possibly go wrong, but the desperate need for sleep eventually won out over the desire to check her pulse every five minutes, and she hasn't just sat and watched the little girl sleep in months. Tonight is different, though. Tonight is special.

When large arms settle around her waist, Rachel looks up and smiles. She was wondering when he would show up.

"It still doesn't feel real, does it?"

Puck shakes his head. "It's like I fucking _blinked _and she's already a _kid_."

"It seems like yesterday," Rachel says, nodding in agreement. "Though she's still technically a baby for the next two minutes. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

They quietly watch the clock on the wall as it changes from 4:34 to 4:35, and then after the world's _longest minute ever_, 4:36.

"We're officially the parents of a one-year-old," Rachel says with a small smile.

Puck runs a hand over his head and exhales heavily. "That's going to take some getting used to."

"I think we'll manage."

Noah thinks about his girl, and how smart and happy and fun and perfect she is, and he can't help but grin. "Yeah, I guess we will. We've done pretty damn good so far, haven't we?"

Rachel nearly corrects him ("We've done _well_, Noah. _Well_.") because she doesn't want Maria to develop poor grammar via osmosis, but instead, she leans against him and sighs contentedly. "Yes, Noah, we have."

Maria startles awake at the sound of the door latching shut after Puck and Rachel slowly creep out of the room, and the newly minted toddler shows absolutely no signs of going back to sleep. They end up downstairs by the gift pile, in hopes that shiny, new toys will keep her occupied long enough for them to fully wake up and prepare for another day.

It occurs to them both, as they're sitting on the couch at five in the morning, watching their daughter ignore all of her toys and climb in and out of a cardboard box instead, that a year is really not a long time in the grand scheme of things. This is really only the beginning of the rest of their lives, and even though it seems very likely that they'll never actually sleep again, they can't wait to see where they'll go from here.

**A/N: So, there's year one! There's a lot more that I wanted to write for the first year, but I'm pretty sure that at 6,000+ words, this chapter is already going to be the longest of the bunch. And I know it's total fluff so far, but I'm leaning pretty heavily toward injecting some angst in here soon. GET READY, KIDS.**

**Reviews are obviously appreciated! I hope to see some familiar screen names…I had so many awesomely faithful readers for 'For Good'! Love you guys!**


End file.
